Pairing: Cedric/Oliver.

Rating: PG-13.

Summary: Oliver is not obsessed with Cedric Diggory. No, no, no! It's just about the Quidditch! And Diggory's definitely got it! Oliver's Chasers, though, prove that they know better.

Dedication: Well, to Krissy, of course! Love you.

Author's Notes: This was a request from my Asahichan... of course, I'll do anything for her. It takes place during PoA before the first Quidditch match, but it really doesn't call a lot from the book. Now, I just doodled around, basically, for fun, and would someday like to go back and rewrite a little to make it stronger and more detailed and plausible, but here it is! It's silly! It's stupid! It's sappy! And, unlike the title suggests, it's so un-angsty that I'd like to freaking shoot myself! :D

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns 'em; I just own their leashes.

"I don't want to talk to Alicia, I want to talk to Roger about the match tomorrow!" exclaimed Oliver Wood, glaring in annoyance over to the corner of the musty Hogwarts library, where one of his Chasers was busy talking up a storm with the captain of the Ravenclaw team.

The twinkle in Katie's eyes was unmistakably Weasleyish. "Worried about ol' Diggory, huh, Cap'n?"

"Worried?" scoffed Oliver, shifting on his feet so he stood taller. "Not on your life!"

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms and leaned back against the shelf, taking way too much enjoyment out of Oliver's obvious unease for his tastes. "Like we haven't all been hearing all of Cedric Diggory's vital stats for the past week."

"Lesson one, Katie... always know your enemy," Oliver said, very seriously, feeling sort of indignant that Katie just wasn't worried. Then again, she hadn't been innocently strolling near the Quidditch pitch every other night during Hufflepuff's practices, so she didn't know just what an amazing Seeker and Captain Hufflepuff had on their lucky little hands. "Anyway," he rushed on, disliking the smirk on Katie's lips, "I think it's important to have some idea of Hufflepuff's strategy, seeing as how this is the first time in history that they actually have one..."

"What are we talking about?" asked a voice, belonging to Angelina Johnson, Oliver's other chaser. She popped up with a cheerful expression, and Oliver spied Fred Weasley leaving the library with twin in tow, grinning a grin that was just a bit more innocent than usual.

"Cedric Diggory," said Katie immediately, much to Oliver's chagrin.

"We're talking about Hufflepuff's strategies!" he protested.

"Mmm, Cedric the Hufflepuff Hottiepants, huh?" Angelina asked with a knowing smile.

"No!" Oliver insisted.

"Alicia sits by him in Herbology. She's so lucky..." Katie shot the chatting Alicia and Roger an envious look.

"Let her have Davies, more Diggory for the rest of us lovely female Quidditch stars."

Oliver smacked himself in the forehead, sending his chasers into giggles.

"Can we get back to the point here, please?" he asked.

"Right. Cedric's amazing eyes."

"Right. -- No! Katie!"

"See what I told you?" Katie asked pointedly to Angelina, and Angelina nodded thoughtfully, large luminous eyes focused on Oliver, who felt completely confused.

"What?" he wanted to know.

Angelina batted her eyelashes and turned her attentions back to Katie. "Did you see him last week at Hogsmeade?"

Oliver sighed desperately.

"Oh my God... those.... those pants he was wearing! Have you ever seen fabric that clings like that?"

"Never. And remember when he ran into that girl from Ravenclaw, what's her name, the Asian one? She's the Ravenclaw Seeker now?"

"Cho Chang." Oliver perked at the mention of Quidditch.

"Right. He was eating that ice cream ball, and ran right into her, and ended up with it smashed all over his mouth... and he got all red and licked it all off?"

"What a show that was!" Katie nodded eagerly.

"Like that matters," Oliver said impatiently, waving his hand and trying to bring their attention back to important matters -- the match tomorrow. "Do you have any idea how good this kid is at Quidditch? I have to admit that... I think Harry's more instinctual on a broomstick... but damn, Diggory's got it."

"Does he ever," grinned Angelina.

"I hate you both," Oliver said flatly.

Both of the girls reached out to shove Oliver in his compactly-muscled shoulders, sending him stumbling back a little bit.

"Oh, Oliver, we're only mean to you because we love you," Katie laughed.

Oliver snorted angrily. "Some way you have of showing it."

"It's that same sort of love you have for us that drives you to get us out of bed at four-thirty in the morning when there's three feet of snow on the ground and send us racing around in air that gives us all frostbite," Angelina said, in a completely serious tone of voice.

"That's for your own damn good, you know!"

"And so's this!" Katie commented merrily. "Come on, Oliver. We know. You can just admit it to us."

"Admit it?" he asked, puzzled. "Admit what?"

The two girls exchanged looks that made Oliver sigh again in exasperation. Why were girls so... girly? Even his chasers, who played a damn good game of Quidditch, he could proudly say, uugh, they were so hard to understand. He loved them, sure, in that captainy sort of way, but what he wouldn't give to talk to Davies or Diggory or hell, even Flint about Quidditch and actually stay on the topic of Quidditch instead of Cedric Diggory's eyes or lips licking his mouth or his form-fitting slacks and the light blue turtleneck that made his eyes shine gray and large like the November sky, no, no, no! Diggory was a man of the pitch, who made the yellow and black look speedy and sharp, who flew like nobody's business and gave the kind of directions to his team that Oliver respected.

And that, and no other reason, was why Oliver had been obsessing over him for the past few weeks.

These girls were insane.

"He's good," Oliver said simply, crossing his arms.

"Good looking," agreed Katie.

"Good tasting, I'll bet."

"What do you think, Oliver? Don't you think he's cute? I mean, honestly. Give us your opinion, o'captain, my captain."

"What? My opinion is... he's going to beat us if you two stare at him on the pitch all match long tomorrow."

Katie and Angelina shared another look, then looked back at their captain, who had his arms crossed defiantly, looking every inch sharp and burly in his black turtleneck and gray tweed slacks, dressed far too tastefully for any rowdy teenage boy, except for perhaps Cedric "light blue and khaki" Diggory.

"Cute, hot, or you'd shag him?" Katie persisted.

"You two..." Oliver protested, looking around uncomfortably.

Angelina teased gently, "I think you're the one who's going to be staring at him on the pitch tomorrow."

Damn it! They were wearing him down. The blush was creeping up his neck.

"Shut up," he muttered, shooting them glares.

Angelina waggled her eyebrows.

"Spying on practice indeed, Oliver."

Oliver shot out a hand and covered her mouth with it. "God, keep your voice down!"

But she was grinning beneath his hand.

"Oliver would shag Cedric, methinks," Katie ribbed him.

"If it would get you off my case, Bell."

"It might, actually." Katie looked sheepish.

"I've learned all I need to learn about you two today," muttered Oliver, letting his hand fall from Angelina's smirk. Katie glanced at the clock above the library's ornate doors.

"Perhaps you should go give Harry a pep talk before he goes to sleep," she suggested.

Oliver could feel his eyes grow two sizes. "You're right!"

"Remind him about Diggory's tight rear defence..."

"If I could, I'd make you warm the bench, Katie."

She smiled innocently.

"Better get going." Angelina, too, was intent on the clock.

Oliver clapped his hands together once, then spun on his heel and walked towards the doors, talk already forming in his head. Then, he turned again and walked backwards to offer out final advice to Katie and Angelina.

"Don't forget about their --"

"Double Chaser move, we know!" chorused the girls.

"Right! Keep going over it in your heads! All night, if you must!" Oliver turned again and opened the door. Then, mid-push, he stopped and tossed over his shoulder, "and don't forget their --"

"Good night, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Their keeper tends to swerve right on stopping!" finished Oliver, grinning and heading back out the door... without looking, smacking both the door and his full body right into a person who was trying to come in the doors, arms full of large, heavy books, which went toppling all over the place in the hallway.

"Oh, shite!" Oliver exclaimed, letting the door fall shut behind him and bending immediately to help gather the books from the floor, the figure in front of him stunned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Wood."

The voice made Oliver's hand pause from picking up a heavy volume, head perking up in surprise.

"Diggory! Er, no, my fault."

Oliver looked back down, head spinning. Oh, dear. Cedric was wearing those slacks, the ones that stretched very nicely over the flat, aerodynamic planes of his hips and showed off the lithe muscle of his legs.

Not that Oliver had ever thought Cedric was lithe and muscular or had noticed the way his slacks hugged his petit rear.

"Well." Diggory gave a little cough, then tried to cover it up with a meek laugh. "Thanks... I... I think I've sprained my wrist..."

Oliver glanced up again, flustered, and noticed that Cedric still had two books clasped under one arm, and was holding his left wrist gingerly.

"Oh no!" He hopped up, the books spilling onto the floor in disarray once more. "Is it all right? Will you still be able to play tomorrow? God, I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry."

Cedric smiled, baring pretty, perfect teeth that made Oliver gulp. "No, it -- it'll be okay, if I can get it looked at by Madam Pomfrey."

"Are you sure?" Oliver demanded, and only hesitated for a split second before reaching out and touching Cedric's palm, turning his hand a little so he could look at the wrist.

"Ouch! I was serious, you know!"

"Oh!" Oliver jerked his hand back, incredibly embarrassed by now. "God. Sorry again!"

Cedric's cheeks were a pastel shade of pink upon the pale porcelain-delicate skin. Oliver's stomach tightened nervously, and he ripped his eyes away from Cedric's velvet-gray ones and knelt again to gather the fifth year's books.

"Let me help you get to the hospital wing, okay?" he murmured.

Cedric smiled nervously.

Oliver just concentrated on getting the books and stacking them up. There were many of them, but they were all texts and secondary sources for classes, not library books. Thank the powers that be. He did not want to go back into that room with Cedric Diggory's books and have his chasers fall over laughing at him.

"So... um... thanks for the help," Cedric said as Oliver stood, wobbling with the books in a stack in his arms.

"No problem," Oliver said from behind the stack. "The least I can do."

"Can you... even see around the books?"

Oliver made a couple of attempts at cocking his head to look around the pile that rested just under his chin, tilting upwards in his arms. "No."

This made Cedric laugh. "Here, I'll take a couple."

"No, no, no sense in straining that wrist of yours."

"All right... well... let me at least guide you, then, so you don't walk into a wall. Then who would get us to the hospital wing?"

Oliver grinned, relaxing a bit, but feeling his heart pounding ferociously against his chest when Cedric slipped his good arm around Oliver's elbow and began to lead him down the hallway. At first, the two stepped awkwardly, but Oliver soon began to trust Cedric and walked blindly on, allowing the small pushes and pulls to keep him going in a relatively straight direction. From this angle, all he could see was Cedric next to him, and it seemed like the entire universe had narrowed down to the point where their arms were linked.

Oh, I'll get you for this, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson. Why couldn't it all just be about Quidditch?

"This is sort of funny, isn't it?" Cedric commented sheepishly. "Running into each other like this when we have a match the next day? Captain to Captain?"

"Very!" said Oliver. "Haha."

"I don't want to go into the match as enemies, you know. Only as opposing team-mates."

Oliver blinked at Cedric, who offered a sensible smile. Oh God. Oliver nearly tripped over his own feet. That mouth... was pretty... uh... lickable?

"No," echoed Oliver, hardly realizing what sorts of words were coming out of his mouth. "Friends, not enemies."

"We're still going to kick your butt, though."

"Oh! I highly doubt it."

"I've watched your Chasers play before," said Cedric. "I feel confident that I know how your team works."

"We'll see about that, Diggory."

"Are you all right? D'ya need a break?" Oliver shook his head wildly, even though his arms were aching under the strain. "Yes, you do," Cedric insisted, "I had to take several breaks on the way here. Come on... just set them down against a wall."

Cedric pulled him over to the side of the corridor they were in, and Oliver sighed and set the books down with a heavy thunk, wincing at the muscles that ached along his back now.

"How's the wrist?"

"Oh... it hurts. But it's fine."

"Ah..." Oliver found himself ruddy speechless for the first time in his life, leaning sideways against the wall and having not felt so awkward in his life, even as a first year, or when he'd first climbed aboard a broomstick, first played a game of Quidditch.

Cedric looked around, dark hair gleaming like it was lacquered in the torch-lit corridor.

"Not a popular hallway, is it?"

Oliver shook his head. They hadn't come across a single person since they'd left the library. This lead him to wonder if fate had smacked him into Cedric this evening for a reason. Then, his thoughts ran wildly away and he was suddenly imagining pressing Cedric back against the wall and licking those lips for himself.

He shuddered a little, willing himself back into the present moment and cursing himself.

Oliver would shag Cedric, methinks.

"O-Oliver?"

Oliver snapped back to attention, back to Cedric's arched brow.

"Yes... Cedric?"

The younger boy's cheeks flushed again, and he looked away, as if a piece of confidence had fallen off his shoulders.

"Thanks for helping with the books," he muttered.

"Like I said, it's the least I could do."

Cedric looked back up, looking a bit more like his usual Diggory self.

God, he really is... so beautiful!

As much as Oliver wanted to tear his eyes away, he couldn't. The eyes, like a raining sky over the Quidditch pitch. The dark hair, darker than the leather binding on a Nimbus Two-Thousand, the skin as perfect and polished and probably softer than the calmed wings of a Golden Snitch, downy and young...

Oliver frowned. He had a tan from being out as much as he could flying, his plain brown hair was a mess of waves, and he wasn't as small and speedy, but a broad-shouldered boy who tended to get flustered when excited.

Even on the slightest, smallest chance that he did kiss Cedric, he'd probably goof it up, and...

It was very sweet. Cedric's mouth was soft and incredibly vulnerable, as clumsy as his own. In the back of his head, Oliver dimly came to the conclusion that he was giving fifteen-year-old Cedric Diggory his first kiss, one stolen in the hallway, one that had started because they'd stared at each other for ten minutes straight, feeling too awkward to say anything and somewhere in the tension deciding that actions spoke louder than words.

Oliver did trip over the pile of books at his feet when he put two palms over Cedric's chest, feeling erratic heartbeat dancing beneath them, and moved Cedric back against the wall. Cedric whimpered as Oliver slid a careful tongue between his lips, awkwardly opening them and feeling those pretty perfect teeth for a moment before meeting hotly with a tongue that had never tasted another before.

It was only when Cedric moved both arms around Oliver's slim, toned waist that he winced because of his wrist, and the kiss ended with a soft noise and an incoherent whisper of something from Cedric.

"Did I hurt you?"

Cedric, who smelled curiously of rain, shook his head and met Oliver's own brown eyes with that beautiful look of a hazy trill of smoke.

"No. Only my heart."

"Your heart?" Oliver's brow knitted.

"It's a good hurt," Cedric assured him in a whisper, and met Oliver's kiss with a tremble and a flush of heat that Oliver felt rushing from his chest to his mouth.

"What about the hospital wing?"

"Screw it," said Cedric.

Oliver cracked a grin. "But you need to get your wrist fixed before it swells and you can't use it tomorrow. I really don't want to have to cancel, I was looking forward to kicking your ass."

"I'm not moving."

At that, Oliver couldn't help but flush with some strange sort of pleasure.

"What if I carry you?"

Cedric looked at him, amused. "It's my wrist, not my leg."

"Oh… oh, well."

Before Cedric could say another thing, Oliver had bent and wrapped his arms just beneath the juncture of Cedric's rear and legs, hoisting him easily up and over one shoulder.

"Oliver!" Cedric was properly dismayed.

"You really are a little thing," said Oliver. "You weigh about as much as those books do... maybe lighter."

"Hey... I've got a good view from here," commented Cedric, whose head was quite a bit closer to Oliver's rear than anything other than a desk, chair, or broomstick ever was.

Oliver laughed out loud. "Damn, Diggory, I think I like you."




When the library closed fifteen minutes later, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet left, all smiling broadly. Halfway through the corridor to the main hall, there was a pile of books scattered, completely forgotten.

"That," said Katie, "was the most brilliant idea I've ever had."

"I agree. Can't wait to see how the game goes tomorrow," grinned Angelina.

"Now for Operation Davies/Flint," added Alicia, and the three girls cackled.